Winking, Drew added, “I’ll get you some of her clover honey to go with.”
“Now, Andrew. I mean it.”
“Won’t be but a minute, Ada.”
He headed for Opal’s, knowing pretty damn sure his Hummer would be there when he returned.
Two
Jacquie Santini was trying to give up cigarettes, but it was like asking her to give up sex. Her body just ran better on nicotine and orgasms.
The peppermint gum in her mouth was losing its flavor so she put the stale piece in a paper napkin, then replaced it with a fresh stick.
Drew hated sitting in the smoking section, and while it was killing her not to light up, she didn’t feel like getting into anything with him today—except for his pants.
She sipped a glass of cold water with cracked ice and waited for Drew to show up.
Jacquie told herself she was every kind of pathetic to still be in love with him. She knew he wasn’t in love with her anymore, but she just couldn’t give him up. How she felt about Drew Tolman was the same way she felt about her best pair of shoes from Barney’s. She still got a thrill out of feeling them against her skin. Besides, they were broken in and comfortable.
Reaching into her purse, Jacquie fingered the soft pack of Virginia Slims. If he didn’t get here soon, she’d have to go out back and take a few drags just to settle down. Why her heartbeat still raced when she anticipated seeing him was amazing to her.
She was thirty-nine, going on forty next week. She considered herself reasonably attractive and knew she drew male attention. Lots of men in Timberline were interested and those wealthy Hollywood actors coming up to buy real estate had hit on her. She’d only made one slipup, and Drew hadn’t found out about that. But what woman wouldn’t have had sex with—
“Hey, baby.” Drew slid into the booth across from her.
“Hey, Drew.” Jacquie forgot about the cigarettes when she saw him. “You’re looking good.”
Most men didn’t wear the scruffy look without coming off like pigs. While she preferred Drew in a dress shirt and slacks, the way he dressed when she took him to her real estate parties, she got an itch in her panties viewing him in his athletics.
The backward ball cap always cinched it for her. He looked every bit the ex-pro baseball player. A little arrogant, but very hot, very good-looking. Even the stubble didn’t turn her off.
Slashes of dark brown brows framed his hazel eyes. There was something about those eyes. She could lose herself in them. The expression in those eyes was like that stinking puppy-dog effect. His appearance just begged a woman to lean in and lick his mouth with her tongue.
She wanted to do that now. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted to please him, make him love her again the way he used to.
Damn him.
Jacquie hated when she got like this. No man had ever made her lose her self-dignity, but Drew shook her up. Any woman in her right mind would have moved on to warmer sheets when she realized hers were only warm on her cue. When she thought about it, she’d been the one making passes at him lately. He no longer elicited sex from her. That irked and upset her.
She didn’t think he was sleeping with anyone else. Then again, at night when she had insomnia, her mind ran wild. A few times, she’d thrown the covers off, gotten in her Jaguar and driven by Drew’s house just to see if the Hummer was in the circular drive. It always was and that appeased her, but only for a short time.
The reality was, she was losing him.
And like a bad habit that a person’s hung on to for so long, the very idea was like giving up her best friend.
Drew understood her. With him, she could be vulnerable and show him sides of her she’d never show in town or with others. To have to give up that comfort, to start over with someone else and to learn a new man’s body and teach him how to do what she liked in an intimate situation…well, the effort was too great and she just didn’t want to go there.
She liked the man she had now.
Opal brought over the coffee, topped off Jacquie’s cup and poured one for Drew.
“Drew, you know anything about a backed-up sink?” Opal asked.
Jacquie gritted her teeth. Opal Harvey had to be a dozen years older than Drew, with Olive Oyl legs and peroxide-blond hair. A cigarette always dangled out of the corner of her mouth when she was in the fry kitchen, and she had learned to bark orders around it without a single cherry falling onto the grill. Why the owner had to always come out and wait on Drew personally agitated Jacquie no end. Holy Mary Mother of God. Didn’t any woman in Red Duck or Timberline not find her boyfriend the best thing under the Christmas tree?
And what in the hell would Drew know about plumbing, anyway?
“No, sugar, I wouldn’t know about a backed-up sink,” Drew replied, pouring a healthy amount of cream into his coffee. “I’d call a plumber.”
“I’ll just do that. Good advice.”
Rolling her eyes, her fingers rubbing together, craving a smoke between them, Jacquie decided Opal was a twit.
Good advice? Who wouldn’t have said to call a plumber? Good Lord.
“Opal, I’m in a rush today.” Jacquie piped up, tapping her shoe beneath the table before nudging the pointed tip up the leg of Drew’s athletic pants. “Bring me a toasted bagel.”
“What can I get for you, Drew?” Opal asked, her light blue eyes trained on him.
“Uh, let’s see.” He made a show of looking at the menu in the metal holder on the table. The menu’s vinyl-coated surface had splatters of ketchup and sticky spots of syrup on it. Colorfully photographed meals on white plates appeared on the front and back, including breakfasts, which were served all day long. Little jelly tins and gooey bottles of flavored syrups sat in a rack by the menus, along with salt and pepper and Tabasco sauce.
“I’ll go with a steak today along with the usual.”
“Coming right up.”
Opal practically ran to the kitchen to shake a leg.
Momentarily forgetting to watch her posture, which Jacquie usually made a habit of so her boobs wouldn’t look smaller than they were, she plopped her chin on her hand and stared at Drew. He shrugged as if he didn’t know shit.
He knew exactly how it was.
Everybody in town loved Drew Tolman. He was a star athlete, the man men looked up to and woman threw themselves at. It didn’t matter that he’d left baseball in the middle of a season. Nobody, not even Jacquie, knew the real truth as to why. It had something to do with a big steroid scandal and him supposedly pumping up on the stuff, but whenever she’d got remotely close to prying, he switched the subject.
He leaned into the burgundy booth, put an arm over the back of it and stretched out real comfortable-like. Jacquie knew that beneath that old shirt was a smooth chest that just begged for a woman’s palms to explore it. In the right light, every slab of sinew and muscle looked twice as defined. He had six-pack abs, a narrow waist and lean thighs that she just loved to straddle.
“So how’s your day going?” he asked, leaning forward to clink a dishwasher-bent metal spoon in the chipped coffee cup.
Straightening, Jacquie thrust out her chest and smiled. “Great, thanks. What about yours?”
“Just starting. So far, so good. I’m heading over to the Little League field when I’m done here. Park and Rec said we were getting in some new equipment today and I want to check it out.”
Drew lived for baseball. While he didn’t play professionally anymore, he lived and breathed it, and, while she hated to admit it, she admired him for that. He had a passion. She understood that. She felt the same way about selling real estate. She got to go into homes she’d never see, list them for obscene prices, then watch the investment buyers line up and the money pour in. Not bad for a girl who started out her life in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
“When’s the new season start?” she asked, not really caring, but wanting to be pleasant. She was hoping to get through this breakfast real quick, then take a spin over to her house for
a ride on her bed.
“Next Wednesday.”
“That’s my birthday.” She blurted out the reminder, then bit her tongue. Dammit, she wasn’t going to mention it. A lady never dangled something like that in front of her man. He should know. It should be branded in his head. She wondered what he was going to get her. Last year he’d bought her hand-crafted jewelry that she really liked, and had taken her to Seattle for the weekend. Funny how that coincided with the Mariners game they went to. But she hadn’t complained. She loved that crystal bracelet he’d got her from Sunshine’s. Sunshine was a former hippy turned actress who’d retired from Hollywood and now sold one-of-a-kind things from her shop on Main Street.
“I know it’s your birthday, babe.” Drew drank his coffee and gazed at her over the rim. “You think I’ve got numb-chucks for a brain?”
“No.” She slipped her shoe out of his pant leg when he didn’t move to continue the game. This was getting harder and harder. She used to be able to seduce him without even trying.
She must have been pouting because he reached over, took her hand and kissed her fingers. “You look nice today.”
That’s all it took. She lit up inside like a Fourth of July display, and that got her through their breakfast with an optimistic smile that said they’d be having dessert at her place.
Opal cleared their plates, then topped off Drew’s coffee. She went to do the same for hers, but Jacquie put her hand over the rim. “Opal, we need the check. We’ve got to get going.”
Drew didn’t say anything to the contrary. He pulled out his wallet, put his credit card on the table. Of all the days not to pay in cash. Now Opal would have to run the card.
“I got it, baby,” Jacquie said, sliding the plastic back to him. “Business breakfast. Tax deduction.”
She opened her purse, grabbed a couple of bills from her wallet and tossed them onto the table. Her butt was sliding across the crumb-dusted booth as she spoke. “I need your opinion on something at my house.”
Drew didn’t make a move to get up. “Yeah, what?”
“I’m hanging a new painting and I want you to tell me if you think it looks good over the fireplace.”
“Hell, Jacquie, I don’t know anything about decorating.”
“Of course you do.” She stood over him now, her hand reaching out to him. “You have an eye for everything. Your house is disgusting.”
And she didn’t mean that in a negative way. It was disgusting because the man had a knack for knowing just how to furnish and decorate without overdoing it. His home was made up of dark woods, four fireplaces and a kitchen that any gourmet would kill to have. And Drew could do a pretty good job of cooking, too.
The man was multifaceted, but completely irritating to her just this exact second. She was all but ripping her clothes off in front of him and he was dragging his feet.
“I can’t stay long,” he told her, acquiescing.
Bingo!
She didn’t need a long time. He knew exactly what to do and he did it well.
As they headed for the door, Drew paused. “Forgot something.”
From inside the kitchen, Opal’s face appeared through the pass-through window. She was talking to one of the cooks, a lit cigarette wagging from the corner of her lipsticked mouth. Drew waved her over.
“Yes, Drew?” She all but panted, probably burned the rubber soles on her Keds to get to him so fast.
“I need you to bag up a dozen biscuits and throw in some of that special clover honey.”
Hesitation marked Opal’s heavily powdered face, her tomato-red lipstick glossy as if she’d just applied a fresh coat before crushing out her cigarette. “Now, Drew…if these are for Ada, she told me she’s on South Beach and she can’t eat them.”
“Right. She mentioned that. So I’ll tell you what, only bag up a half dozen.”
Opal was appeased by the compromise, a broad smile breaking out on her face. “Now that’s an excellent idea. I’ll be right back.”
Jacquie folded her arms beneath her breasts. Now she had to stand around and wait for biscuits. If she thought Drew would meet her at her house, she’d leave him and make a mad dash for her car to light up and smoke a quick one. But she knew from past experience that if she didn’t hang on to him while she had him in her sights, somebody would come into Opal’s, or wherever, start talking to him, and he’d get sidetracked at someone’s table before he remembered where he was headed. And at that point, he’d blow off meeting her, knowing she’d be hot under the collar by then.
Sometimes Jacquie felt as if she couldn’t win for losing, and the frustration was giving her early wrinkles.
Stepping in closer, she put her arm around Drew, gave him a hug and tried a different tactic. “You’re so good to Ada to buy her biscuits. You know you burn her leather when you park on her property.”
A lopsided grin caught on Drew’s mouth. “Yeah, I know. But it’s a love thing. She loves me. And I love her.”
The way Drew could say he loved somebody so casual-like had Jacquie’s arm slowly sliding down his strong and muscular back. Another fraction of an inch and she’d be disconnected from him. A part of her wanted to end this. Right now. She couldn’t hang on for much longer. But every time she thought she had the courage, she thought about how much she’d already invested, and she hated to go back to square one.
The hideous truth was, Drew Tolman floated her boat. The man just did it for her…and at one time, she’d done it for him.
Maybe he didn’t find her attractive enough anymore.
As she thought about booking a spa package in Timberline for the full works—facial, exfoliation, body wrap, manicure, pedicure and massage, the sleigh bells chimed over the diner’s front door.
A woman and two boys came in. She had her hand on the youngest’s shoulder, but when she tried to do likewise with the oldest, he shrugged away. The woman managed to keep her half smile, although it was looking a little broken.
Jacquie noticed other women. It was a project of sorts for her. Maybe eyeing competition in a town of three thousand just came naturally, she wasn’t sure. Most of the time, she pegged a tourist right off the bat, and she’d swear that’s what this woman was.
They walked past the cash register. Drew’s nose was in the current copy of Wood River County Homes and Land magazine, a passing interest of his. He’d been talking about buying investment properties. She’d shown him a few things, but so far he hadn’t done anything.
The little boy, maybe eleven or twelve—Jacquie couldn’t be sure—looked intently at Drew. She’d never had kids and was no expert at figuring out how old they were, nor did she really care. The whole thought of kids… That subject was a bit touchy for her, anyway.
“Hey, mister, is that a Los Angeles Dodgers World Series cap?” he asked.
Drew tossed the magazine on the counter and turned. “Now, how’d you know that?”
“I seen the team emblem.” He pointed. “Right there.”
Taking off the hat, which was faded at the band by sweat, Drew held it out. “You want to see it?”
“Yeah!” The kid examined the hat every which way from Sunday, then hesitated, his hands shaking.
“You want to try it on?”
“Yes, sir!”
“G’ahead.”
The kid put the hat on, turned to his mother and beamed. “Mom, it’s a World Series hat.”
“I see that.”
Jacquie’s attention refocused on the woman. She was very attractive, tall and with generous C-cup breasts. A natural beauty, something that had always eluded Jacquie, who relied on cosmetics to bring out the best of her features. This woman looked as if she only wore a tinted moisturizer, blackest-black mascara and champagne-colored lip gloss. Dangling silver earrings swept through her long hair when she turned her head.
The front of her coat was open. Her clothes weren’t the latest style, but she carried them well for her body type, which was a cross between curvaceous and slender. A soft
-stretch brown shirt with a V-neck and lower-rise jeans made her seem younger than she might have been. Jacquie could usually peg a woman’s age. She wasn’t sure now. Early forties?
“How’d you get this hat?” the boy was asking Drew, whose gaze had somehow gotten tangled up with the mother’s.
A quickening fanned through Jacquie. She never got used to when this happened; it cut every time. Drew wasn’t exactly a flirt; he didn’t have to extend the effort. Women came to him. He liked the attention, but he wasn’t a man-whore. He didn’t sleep around, or at least not that she knew about, but his gaze had strayed on more than one occasion. Seeing him look at this woman, Jacquie didn’t like the feelings erupting in her heart.
Stef Ann Holm Page 3
